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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26829073">hunger of the pine</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleakmidwinter/pseuds/bleakmidwinter'>bleakmidwinter</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>It all started in San Martin de los Andes [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hannibal (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Consensual Non-Consent, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Post-Season/Series 03, Rape Fantasy, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Unsafe Sex, hope that if you choose to read it tickles your fancy, sex without lube, they both love each other and it's all technically consensual but, this can get rough guys, tried to put all the helpful warning even if dubious consent is dubious, will's got his fantasies</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 11:20:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,251</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26829073</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleakmidwinter/pseuds/bleakmidwinter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Will has certain taboo fantasies that Hannibal discovers, and is willing to take part in.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>It all started in San Martin de los Andes [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1943833</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>266</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>hunger of the pine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>If talk of rape, even in fantasy triggers you, please don't read this!</p><p>name of fic from the song "hunger of the pine" by alt-J</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Will starts to protest when the lazy morning kisses on his shoulder begin descending slowly down his spine, and searing warm fingers palm the sensitive flesh of his thighs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hannibal, no,” he says with humor, but makes no actual move to leave the bed as Hannibal continues to descend. “Come on.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannibal does not listen. His mouth is growing dangerously close to the curve of Will’s ass, and Will remembers vividly what happened the last morning Hannibal spent eating him out. The washing machine broke afterwards when Will had tried shoving all the soiled sheets in one load. They had to cancel their plans of going to the local film festival and spend the rest of their day shopping for a suitable replacement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannibal had been </span>
  <em>
    <span>peeved </span>
  </em>
  <span>to say the least. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that Will would make the same mistake again, but the prospect of lugging himself down to the basement to do laundry after this doesn’t bring him any anticipatory feelings. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop,” he grumbles into his pillow, eyes still heavy with sleep. “Hannibal, I’m serious.” Not to his credit, he doesn’t actually sound serious at all. He knows once Hannibal’s tongue finds its target, he’s a goner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>One last ditch effort, then. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, did you hear me</span>
  <span>–</span>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannibal grabs him by the hips and pushes him down into the sheets so his cock is crushed against the silk texture. He barely manages to whimper before Hannibal says in a low voice, “I know what you want.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With one thick swipe of the tongue against Will’s quivering hole, he starts going to town. Will groans, not just from the wet, sloppy, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>fucking good feeling of it, but the words, the </span>
  <span><em>forcefulness</em>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannibal has never outright defied him in this way. They’ve played their rough little games here and there, but never has Will given a soft disapproval three times, and have it be ignored. It shouldn’t send a hot shiver up and down his spine, but it does, tenfold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could have kicked Hannibal away, or given a firmer ‘no.’ This is by no means Hannibal forcing him to do anything, but the illusion is there, and it’s enough to make him grind into the sheets and come hard before Hannibal can even reach around a hand to accompany the sharp thrusts of the tongue between his cheeks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannibal pulls back, shocked at having unraveled Will so quickly, and Will rolls onto his back after the aftershocks die down, shooting him with a pointed glare. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re doing the laundry.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannibal’s gaze is dark and his boxers are tented, so Will sighs and shoves him down on the sheets, ripping them off and covering his hard cock with wet kisses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He dangles the boxers in his hand with two fingers and mentions casually, “I thought I took these off you last night,” before tossing them halfway across the room and swallowing Hannibal down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Breakfast comes late that morning. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What did I tell you about learning the language, darling?” Hannibal inquires one afternoon. He has brought in two cups of chamomile tea to the living room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will takes the green cup graciously. It reminds him of his dad’s mugs from when he’d been a kid. Hannibal’s is pink, and he doesn’t seem to mind that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their house in France is much homier than their house in Argentina, but less so than the one they had in Denmark. It’s certainly larger than the Danish cottage, and closer to a town of far more people. It’s only taken a short amount of time to get used to his surroundings. He’d only just been getting used to the Danish language however, and now he’s thrust back into misunderstanding almost everything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You just like speaking for me,” Will accuses. “I want to at least be able to turn down a street vendor when they offer me free cologne.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just don’t like to see you frustrated,” Hannibal says in a light tone, sipping at his drink. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d argue that you do, just under different circumstances.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannibal cocks a brow. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Will</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he chides. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will cocks a brow back and hides his face behind his mug. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannibal isn’t going to stop him from learning French. Even if he becomes fluent and they instantly have to uproot themselves from their new life once again. He can already say Bounjour and Oui oui, mon ami. What more is there to learn to sound legit? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they spend the rest of the afternoon discussing paint colors for the master bedroom and the study, Will has a morbid understanding of just how comfortable they are with a life of domesticity. For two killer cannibals, it should be a bit disconcerting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t stop Will from going paint shopping with Hannibal in the evening. He wants to become accustomed to the city life, and the best way to do that is to accompany Hannibal on his shopping trips. Plus, they had a disagreement about the color for the master bedroom. He needs to make sure Hannibal doesn’t go for the navy blue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It isn’t a long walk. It only takes thirty minutes to reach the more urban area of the town. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They don’t need to fill the silence with small talk anymore, but Will can’t help but pipe up when they start passing more people, a baker included, and he croons, “Here comes the baker with his tray like always.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannibal laughs, a bright and happy thing, and Will can see him resist taking Will’s hand in his own. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>While Hannibal didn’t want red, they are able to compromise in the furnishing store on a caramel brown. It’ll be cozy at least, and not like they’re drowning in the Atlantic. Again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will waits in the alley behind the shop while Hannibal makes the purchase. They take the backroad home. It is quiet and Will has had his fair share of people for the day. Even the prospect of talking to the shopkeeper had been too much. He’d like to be at home under a blanket, maybe have another cup of tea. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannibal gets to work setting out their new paints and tools where the dogs can’t get at them. Will knows Aphrodite and Medeina wouldn’t be able to get into the paint cans, but they might knock them over and hurt themselves. He’d rather not have to show his face at the vet unless it becomes absolutely necessary. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will is brewing another cup of tea when Hannibal comes up behind him and loops his arms around his waist. Will huffs gently, but doesn’t tell him to stop. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You aren’t going to stop me from having more caffeine,” Will states, matter-of-factly. Hannibal’s hands drift lower, toying with the hem of his pants. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t ask. Just do it. Fuck me against the countertop without saying a word.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Will doesn’t have enough time to be shocked at his own train of thought before Hannibal asks in a low voice, “Not even if I asked you politely to take me to bed?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannibal asking Will to fuck him always revs him up; he swerves around and insinuates a knee between Hannibal’s legs when he kisses him. The tea is abandoned and the heat on the stove turned off before they maneuver their way through the new halls, towards their white-walled bedroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can imagine the new color by way of the caramel brown seeping into the corners of his vivid imagination, trickling down the sides of the walls, slowly like tar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is a looming feeling of disappointment Will can’t quite explain as they undress each other at a mildly frantic pace. He’s hard, that’s certain. He wants to fuck Hannibal, that’s always certain. So why is there a muted feeling of dissatisfaction? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannibal is going to notice, he always does, so Will flips him around on his stomach and pats his thigh to get him to raise his ass up. Hannibal does as he’s ordered, only glancing over his shoulder when Will begins to stretch him open, slowly but intentionally. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t wait to fuck you in here when the walls are painted,” Will says conversationally, arousal buzzing low in his gut, his cock only half hard. He’s still somewhat focused on that underlying feeling of discontentment. He doesn’t know quite why he says it, Hannibal only grunts in response, pushing back against two of his fingers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannibal opens for him so perfectly, and he wants it so bad, he’s clenching his ass around Will’s fingers in intervals. It's all so warm and inviting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>How could Will not be completely, achingly, hard? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He removes the grip he has on Hannibal’s hip when he’s able to press three fingers inside without resistance, and jerks himself steadily to full hardness. It doesn’t take long, like muscle memory, and he slides home with ease. It is so slick and Hannibal’s groan of relief eggs him on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Were you thinking about me fucking you all day?” Will asks, voice throaty now that he’s gathering way. “I bet you were. You had that look in your eyes.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You had that look in the kitchen,” Hannibal quips back in defense. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was actually just thinking about tea bags and hot water, but I’m not complaining.” Will scratches his nails down Hannibal’s back to watch him arch his spine. He slams into him harder, making it a bit rougher than Hannibal might have been asking for. Hannibal always takes it, gladly and whole-heartedly, just elated Will wants him enough, wants him this badly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will gets a little lost in his own head again, and in the way his cock is sliding in and out of Hannibal’s slick hole. It’s mesmerizing and gives him a heady feeling of power, one he’s used to but still addicted to. He’s only shaken out of his thoughts when the headboard creaks from Hannibal’s white-knuckled grip and he comes untouched. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will stills inside of him, jarred by the convulsions around his cock and Hannibal’s body slumping down, sweat sheened and heaving. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can keep going,” Hannibal mutters, voice airey and absent-minded, but Will has already slipped out, to lie on his back beside him. He doesn’t even think about reciprocation until Hannibal is crawling down his body and sucking one of his balls into his mouth, jerking him off at a swift pace that should make his blood boil and his skin tingle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t do that, and his cock droops a bit, embarrassingly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This has never happened to him. Not with Hannibal. Never with Hannibal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did I</span>
  <span>–</span>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you dare,” Will interrupts. “You know it’s not you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Feeling a bit exposed, he tugs Hannibal up so he’s lying against his side, and focuses his gaze on the clock on the bedside bureau. Hannibal strokes up and down his sternum, and it only makes him more on edge, more nervous, even if it’s done in a soothing, tantalizing way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been feeling off today.” Will feels awkward having to explain himself. He hadn’t even been feeling off today, not at all, not until the kitchen when…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you care to talk about it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s nothing to talk about,” Will deflects, knowing full well there has to be something to talk about. Hannibal would dig it out of him given the chance, with rusted shovels and pickaxes. “Hell</span>
  <span>–</span>
  <span>do you want me to draw you a bath or something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His gaze travels down to Hannibal’s sticky legs and he’s kissed before he can make eye contact. “I’ll go take a shower and meet you back in the living room,” is the quiet response he receives.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Honestly, falling asleep had been his go to option, but he’s not quite old enough to get away with going to sleep at 7 pm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will gets up to go to the living room. He adds fuel to the fire in the fireplace, and wraps himself up in a blanket. The shower is already off by the time he remembers that he was going to make himself another cup of tea. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannibal journeys out into the living room in a white button-up and black slacks. His hair is still damp, and hangs loosely over his eyes. It nearly stirs Will’s arousal, but he’s still too self-conscious about what transpired in the bedroom to think about it assiduously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Been searching for answers in the flame?” Hannibal asks of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will shrugs, unresponsive as he passively welcomes the company of Hannibal. He sits in the armchair across from him, not beside him, and the position is uncomfortably familiar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I noticed something was wrong in the kitchen,” Hannibal admits, apparently not caring to frame this as anything other than what it is; Psychoanalyzation. Will grits his teeth and bears it for now. “I thought I’d merely taken you off guard, but that wasn’t it, was it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” Will answers honestly, albeit a bit detached. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to do something you don’t want me to do.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For some reason, that sentence is what tips Will over the edge and he bares his teeth a bit before grumbling, “It doesn’t matter if you prime a therapy session with the truth that you care about my wellbeing, it’s still a therapy session.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannibal responds undeterred. “History is bound to repeat itself if we do not understand the actions we take.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My dick went limp,” Will says bluntly, making hard eye contact with him. “I’m practically a middle aged man, it happens to men younger than me, on a regular basis in fact.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not trying to embarrass you, Will. I just have my suspicions.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will tenses. “What the hell are you talking about?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hopes Hannibal decides to drop this. It’s not a territory he’d care to indulge in right now, he’s not even sure if he wants him to reveal this specific truth that he’s trying so desperately to encourage to the surface. He’s always been drawn to Will’s darkness, but if he goes too far, he might not be able to see Will the same way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannibal doesn’t outright put a label on his suspicions, he never does. That wouldn’t be Hannibal-esque enough. Will’s not sure if he’s glad about that or not. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you want me to take you in the kitchen?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wanted to fuck you,” Will says, evading the question, and admitting this much because it is true. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannibal never asks the same question twice, so his eyes glaze over as he thinks, and then a smile stretches across his lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You had a reaction to my words last week that I’ve never seen you have before. I told you that I know what you want,” he states. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will turns pink, lips parting before he snaps them shut again. Arousal in its purest form shudders through him, and his cock fills without his permission. It’s actually quite unfair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know I like when you take control,” he admits sheepishly, feeling foolish for saying such things in the living room. “It doesn’t mean I don’t want to fuck you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not saying that,” Hannibal assures and Will relaxes. “But, I think it’s more than a desire for dominance. I have been dominant before and it has yielded quite lovely results, but this time it was much different. I haven’t taken you without your permission before, technically not until then. I was not prepared for the intensity of your response.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I let you, you weren’t...it’s fine, I wanted it,” Will rambles, and Hannibal’s smile grows teeth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I remember,” he enunciates, and Will anxiously picks at his nails under the blanket. “I wouldn’t have taken you if you truly didn’t want it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will’s gaze flicks down, and his arousal ebbs off. He doesn’t notice, he never does, but this time Hannibal calls him out on it and makes him notice. The bastard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But, see there. That is disappointment.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannibal nods towards him, and Will struggles to swallow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you saying?” Will asks carefully, not sure what he even wants his response to be. This is dangerous territory, horribly and terribly vulnerable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When I asked you to take me to bed, there was a sliver of disappointment in your eyes, in your voice. It wasn’t the prospect of taking me to bed, but the fact I had </span>
  <em>
    <span>asked</span>
  </em>
  <span> you. You wanted whatever was to transpire to happen naturally, perhaps unwillingly.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will’s body feels stiff with tension, even worse since he can’t seem to find the right words to deny the claim. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannibal must find him loathsome. That he thinks about these things. That he desires such things. Probably never thought Will would ever have an unseemly view on sex and intimacy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His smile is cruel. “You think I disapprove.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How could you not,” Will breathes out. “Christ, this isn’t something we should even be discussing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why not? Do you want it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will catches his eye, can’t look away even if his life depended on it. His bottom lip is trembling when he speaks. “And if I do?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would be more than open to discussing these fantasies of yours. I was hoping you’d know by now that anything you find desirable, I will find desirable. To indulge in your cravings is all that I need.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fire crackles louder next to him after this is said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This isn’t one of our little sexual romps, Hannibal. You’re asking what I’d like and what I’d like is for you to take me under the guise that I am unwilling. I know that you don’t desire that. You would hurt me, but not like that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could, if it were consensual. Do lovers not practice roleplay in the bedroom?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will laughs callously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s the problem isn’t it? It being consensual. My fantasy is to be taken by you, even after I tell you no. Firmly and legitimately. Hell, I’m not sure I could ever even mean it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannibal’s eyes glisten and his smile softens. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have a proposal for you. Perhaps one that would make the issue of consent a bit more intriguing. If you’re game, of course.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will raises a wary brow, but he makes sure Hannibal can see it is a complacent gesture. One that affirms he’s open to ideas. Willing to have his aching desires drawn out of him like a thread from a sewing spool. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d like to take a trip.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A trip. That might be interesting. With new surroundings, perhaps it would be easy to place himself in different headspace. A new role.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where would we go?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not us,” Hannibal clarifies. “Just me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly the fire doesn’t seem all that loud, and Will feels like he’s sinking into the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His throat suddenly feels dry. Like, in the middle of the desert about to see a mirage, dry. He throws the blanket off his lap and makes his way to the kitchen. It is too bright in the room, and it strains his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He is shakily pouring himself a glass of water when Hannibal crowds him against one of the counters. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This distresses you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damn, you’re a better detective than me,” Will mutters dryly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You haven’t</span>
  <span>–</span>
  <em>
    <span>we</span>
  </em>
  <span> haven’t been away from each other since…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Since we started living with each other, yes,” Hannibal allows him to drink half of his glass before he takes it from Will’s trembling fingers and places it down on the island behind them. He turns back to stroke a finger over the healed scar on Will’s cheek. “We’ve been away from each other, but not for extended periods of time. This time, I might choose to stay gone for a long while, or just a week, maybe two.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will shakes his head. “I don’t like that plan. It’s unnecessary.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannibal smiles, too gentle this time, and doesn’t stop stroking his scar. “I have thought about this for a while. It could be a test to see how well we fare without each other. If we could truly survive separation.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will forgets their conversation in the living room for a moment. He can’t make eye contact with him, and his blood feels cold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have I done something wrong?” he asks in a soft voice. “Did I do something to upset you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will, this isn’t a punishment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why then? You know as well as I do that we need each other.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I merely want to strengthen our bond. Don’t you trust me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Memories of manipulation rush to the surface, of moments in time where Hannibal worshipped curiosity over compassion. Will shoves him backward with a growl. Hannibal bumps against the island and Will grips the edge of it, on either side of his body, and now eye contact comes easily behind a thin veil of red. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Never in my life,” he lies. “If you leave I’ll be pissed.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will be back obviously,” Hannibal reminds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not if you,” Will chokes. “Not if you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>apprehended.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannibal all but snorts and places his hands gently over Will’s stiff arms. He avoids telling Will that it doesn’t matter if he’s alone or if they’re together, apprehension can happen at any moment in time. “After all this time, do you really believe I could be taken into custody? Or that I would allow anyone to take me away from you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, he can’t say that he would. Will knows better, but it doesn’t make the nauseous churning in his gut go away. God, how he’d like to punch him right now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He comes back to himself, only slightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What does this have to do with my dilemma?” Will asks this a bit sheepishly, still with a tint of contempt. He draws his arms back, but Hannibal’s gaze keeps him trapped where he stands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannibal grins, still tracing up and down one of Will’s arms with his nails. “I was thinking I could incorporate my departure into our new game.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A game is a bad word for it. A bad decision is probably better phraseology.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will be gone long enough for you to get used to the time spent alone in this house. I know you well enough to know that by the time I return, you will be resentful enough of me, angry enough with me, that the thought of me taking you would put you off. At least at first. I intend to show up unannounced and have my way with you then, when you are at your least wanton. I intend to make you wonder why you were ever angry with me, even if you hate yourself for it.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will’s erection is harder than rock by the time Hannibal stops speaking and he tucks his chin down to avoid the heat of his gaze. He grips himself in his pants to calm the pounding throb in his cock. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Holy shit,” he mutters, because there is nothing else to say. It is a good plan, maybe too good, at least his body seems to think so.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want there to be safeguards of course,” Hannibal tells him, with a hand settling on Will’s shoulder. “You must allow me that much if you want this to happen.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will rolls his eyes and shoots him with a dirty glare. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or you could play the game as intended.” Will reaches a hand between them to palm at Hannibal’s cock, glad to find it nearly as hard as his own. He looks him up and down with sheer hunger. “That’s the point isn’t it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A safeword?” Hannibal suggests and Will scoffs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A definite </span>
  <em>
    <span>no </span>
  </em>
  <span>to that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I assumed,” Hannibal hums thoughtfully. “I have another idea that you may be amenable to. I will leave you with one of my scarves, the red one. You will leave it tied on the doorknob of our home if you still want to play our game. If your mind changes at any point during the wait, take it off the doorknob, and I will come home and rest beside you. No harm done, I won’t even mention it if you prefer.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That seems acceptable,” Will mumbles, though he’d prefer having Hannibal unhinged. Perhaps if this goes well, he’ll be able to convince Hannibal to play this game without safeguards. They certainly aren’t people who seem to practice them in everyday life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannibal strokes his neck. “I must know what is off limits.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has to hold back another painfully obvious roll of the eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just don’t beat the shit out of me. But hit me, cut me, restrain me. Whatever you need to do to make me compliant.” Will flashes him with a sharp gaze which Hannibal returns with a fiery one. “That work for you?” he asks, and Hannibal nods. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is a heavy silence, stroking skin, and quiet breathing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When…” Will trails off, fairly dazed. The thoughts of this reality are sinking in like sediment, and he can’t seem to get his mind off the heat between his legs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tonight.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will’s head snaps up and he tears himself away from Hannibal’s arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am able to pack and take a trip at any moment in time. And, you seem so devoted to this new game plan that I cannot help but rip the rug out from under you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>At least he's honest.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t had time to prepare,” Will says, defeated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All the better,” Hannibal replies with a grin. “For one last night, shall I help you relieve the tension here?” He wraps his elegant fingers around the shaft of Will’s cock through his pants, and Will topples forward, and moans. “No games. Just for our mutual pleasure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will wraps him up in a kiss, and drags them both to the bedroom. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Will breaks around the three week mark.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He is twining a feather around a fishhook. Bright orange like the flames in the fireplace that has been out cold for days due to Will’s laziness. Aphrodite and Medeina lay by his feet, patiently waiting for dinner. It is quiet, like a normal evening, but the emptiness in the pit of Will’s stomach gradually unfurls into something foul.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His patience has been rotting like bitten fruit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His fingers slip on the hook and he nicks his finger. The orange feather snaps off and falls gently to the table, and the last straw is pulled right then and there, without any warning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will releases an animalistic growl and grabs the ceramic box of fish hooks and he keeps on his desk in the study and tosses it hard against the wall. The wall dents, and the box smashes, pieces of hardened clay flying in every which way. He immediately regrets it, only for the dogs’ sake. Aphrodite scatters off into another room at the speed of light, and Medeina hides her face between her paws, whimpering softly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sweetie, sorry,” Will murmurs, trembling still from what he’d done. He leans down and soothes her with broad strokes along her back, his other hand massaging one of her floppy ears. “Shh, it’s okay. I’m sorry, Dina. Come on, I’ll get you guys treats.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has to chuckle when her ears perk up at the word ‘treats.’ Easily convinced, then. Just like Aphrodite who trots into the kitchen at the sound of the treat bag crinkling open. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will is lucky to have the dogs, otherwise he would have gone mad in Hannibal’s absence. Whatever exercise Hannibal seems to think this separation is necessary for, is a load of shit. He thinks he’ll kill him when he gets back, just a smooth slide of a blade into his jugular. Hannibal couldn’t betray him after that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can’t help but wonder if he’s been caught. If he intended to stay away for three weeks, if he intends to stay away for longer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He checks the news every night to make sure, Tattlecrime first as always. Nothing new ever pops up. There is a string of bank robberies in New England the FBI seems preoccupied with. It has been a long time since their names have scraped the surface of the frontpage news. Not even Freddie Lounds dwells on possible sightings. There is a silence that unnerves him, like something should happen sooner or later. Does fate want to allow them this humble freedom? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Those thoughts usually fade away during the night when he starts to make an abundance of associations around the house in relation to Hannibal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will looks at the piano and can vividly imagine Hannibal’s fingers dancing over the ivories, creating tunes Will couldn’t dance to if he tried. He sees their bed and remembers Hannibal pressing him down onto the silk sheets and sucking him into his mouth the last night he’d been here. He can’t even go in the kitchen unless he’s hungry or his eyes will grow wet and his head will throb with exhaustion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every night, without fail, he’ll go outside before locking the front door and make sure the red scarf is fastened tight around the golden doorknob. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There have been nights where he considered removing it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Many times, out of anger for Hannibal. Wanting him to face Will’s rage when he gets home, not wanting to give him any pleasure for his troubles. But, he’s always kept it there, knowing the results will be more than satisfactory. There is always time for anger later. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>An even fewer amount of times, Will has considered removing it out of nerves. A part of him wants Hannibal soft and gentle, as he always has. Some nights he misses the warmth of his body and his kind words in his ear, and he worries he’ll genuinely resist if Hannibal returns on such a night with bared teeth and unsheathed claws, but then he remembers that in this way, it’ll yield the most successful outcome. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It has become such a routine, that he does not have his doubts whilst tightening it, returning back inside to lock the door. Hannibal has a key, he’s the only one that will need it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In bed, he puts a hand on his cock, unsurprised when it doesn’t fill out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hasn’t come since Hannibal left, and his dick isn’t exactly the easiest thing to convince to rise to occasion if there’s no reason to. Will wasn’t much of a masturbator before he’d met Hannibal, he’s really only every enjoyed orgasms when he has someone to share them with, or think about, but thinking about Hannibal right now reminds him of the ache in his chest, like someone cut a hole in one of his vital organs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hand slithers out of his pants and he turns on his side, wondering if Hannibal is gone for another few weeks, if he’ll be able to come. After being in such a voracious sexual relationship, the absence of sexual pleasure is certainly something that looms over his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wonders if this will work. If this rough and unconventional approach to lovemaking will even get him off, or if this was just a weak fantasy and nothing more. It puts him on edge, and he struggles to sleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the next few days, he is only able to sleep properly when he focuses on the steady breathing of the dogs on either side of him. Hannibal would kill him if he knew he was letting them into their bed, but hey, he’s the one that left. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just when he thinks he can mark “week four” off on the calendar, he wakes one night to a loud noise outside. He sits up in bed, eyes foggy with sleep when they fix on the time: 2:00 AM. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will glances at the bedroom door which he could have sworn he closed before getting into bed, but the dogs are nowhere to be seen and he supposes that’s how they got out. He’s sure they’ll find a comfortable place to rest in the living room or on Hannibal’s paperwork in the study. Maybe they’ll piss on it too for good measure. Will stretches the aching muscles in his shoulders and arms, and settles back down with his stomach facing the ceiling, easily able to close his eyes and get back to sleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>While he drifts off, he thinks about how many lures he can decorate with neon feathers in under an hour. He’s sure he could do at least thirty, if not forty. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It isn’t the first time he dreams of Hannibal pressing him down onto a mattress, sucking hickies over his skin, not even before Hannibal took his leave. He’s able to imagine how those lips feel around his cock, sucking and toying with the slit with his tongue. Lapping at the underside, flicking around his balls and sucking those into his mouth too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will groans and reaches out a hand, finding a surprisingly solid head of hair. He blinks awake slowly, coming alive when he realizes that there is a real head bobbing between his legs, slowly bringing him near release. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After so long without a body by his side at night, fight or flight kicks in, as Hannibal knew it would and he knees Hannibal hard in the chest as he pulls away, dick slipping wetly from his mouth. He doesn’t have time to even register his presence before he’s flipped over and tugged up hard by the hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will shouts from the pain and before he can even find the proper word, Hannibal is pressing tape over his mouth. It sticks sorely against his lips, and he moans words against it that are completely muffled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tries to reach up and pry it off on instinct, but Hannibal grabs his arms too and twists them behind his back. It is a classic move he learned himself, at the police academy. Instead of handcuffs, a loud ripping sound of tape signals to Will what’s going to happen before Hannibal is efficiently wrapping layer after layer of tape around his wrists, restricting him completely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has his legs, but there’s not much he can do in this position, and his mind is still foggy from sleep, slow to start. His cock is unbelievably hard, from the blowjob he guesses, but the absolute fucking dominance Hannibal is emitting right now is maddening. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He moans behind the tape when Hannibal grabs at the supple flesh of his ass, as if feeling the validity of a product, belatedly realizing he’s supposed to be putting up more of a fight than this. It’s just been such a long time since Hannibal’s warm hands have touched him, as angry as he is, he can’t deny that it sets his nerves alight. In all the right ways. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tries to roll over, uses one leg to knock one of Hannibal’s down but Hannibal folds over him, pressing him down so that Will feels he is fully clothed, jacket and all. There is a sound of swishing metal and a knife is being pressed to cheek. Hannibal’s lips brush his ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Try and escape and you’ll regret it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It is a crude threat, but Will nods nonetheless. It wrings a small whimper out of him, at the thought he is treating him like one of his victims. Of course Hannibal would never rape any of his victims, he’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>kind of psychopath, but he speaks to them as if they are cattle. In all actuality, he’d treat cattle better than this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blade trails down his spine and he arches away from it. He’s not sure he’d be opposed to Hannibal using it, but he’d much rather go through with this without. Luckily, it is tossed aside, and the sound of a zipper breaks through the silence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will’s breath quickens, the tape seemingly tighter on his mouth than it was a few seconds ago. His nostrils flare as he tries to breathe steadily, failing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is an unfamiliar noise, and a wetness at his hole. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannibal actually spit on him, pressing the wetness into his tense hole. He shudders and whimpers, shifting, but not trying to get away. Hannibal would be good on his promise to use that blade after all, and he still doesn’t want to antagonize him to that degree. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It strikes him then that he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>only </span>
  </em>
  <span>using spit. When he presses two in, he spits again, pressing it all in, hurrying through the stretch. It burns more than it ever has, and Will finally looks over his shoulder with wide, alarmed eyes which Hannibal meets undaunted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gets no communication out of those eyes which are shadowed even in the moonlight. Black pits without a shape, like the middle of a ripe cherry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If this were real, there wouldn’t be lube would there? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They have only ever done this once, but it was the other way around. They’d been so damn worked up, in the backseat of their car outside the opera. Hannibal had begged him to take him unprepared, and Will had still spent what felt like hours painstakingly stretching him with saliva, and he had been worried half the while thrusting into Hannibal, even then, while Hannibal had seemed unphased. Hannibal has a high tolerance for pain, Will, not so much. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will tries not to make it obvious when he starts tugging at the tape around his wrists, the promise of the pain to come sending him through another bout of adrenaline.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He whimpers again when Hannibal brings a hand down sharply against his ass, scraping over the raw mark with his nails not a second later. It reminds Will his cock is throbbing still, and he can’t help but push back into the burn between his cheeks, gasping when Hannibal removes his fingers and replaces them with the blunt head of his cock. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will squirms, breathing hard through his nose, and when the head pops in through the tight ring of muscle, he screams. The noise is muffled by the tape, but it is an agonized noise nonetheless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannibal had spit on his cock too, slicking up the whole thing with saliva, and it makes it only a fraction easier as he sinks in, inch by inch. Each moment the fire burns brighter and his muscles strain hard against the restraints, arms aching with the need to get away. His hips are trembling, and his thighs are shaking, everything is the solid line of pain sliding into his body, like a knife. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, not as bad as being gutted. Hell, his cock is still hard somehow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannibal does wait when he’s filled him up to the hilt. There is a gentle stroke down his back, only one, as if Hannibal has to catch himself and remember he’s not here to soothe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will’s eyes are squeezed shut, focusing on every part of his body that isn’t tense. Trying to calm down. He can’t do much in the way of moving, his arms still strapped to his back, and his neck starting to grow uncomfortable where it’s pressed against his pillow. Hannibal has him raised up on his knees, and he starts thrusting right when the burn begins to dull. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will lets out little cries with each sharp drag of Hannibal’s cock. When he opens his eyes, his vision completely blurs with tears. He shakes his head, wanting it to stop, and knowing Hannibal won’t. This is why he didn’t want a safeword. He would have blown it instantly, unable to take the pain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannibal’s breathing grows rough, clutching Will’s ass with uncut nails. They are sharp and might be drawing blood for all Will knows. Hannibal bends over him, sinking even deeper and Will lets out a sharp yelp, when he feels him glance roughly against his prostate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannibal reaches around and begins to jerk him off, a surge of unbearable pleasure rushing through him, and making his cock grow hard again, where it had started to flag. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wetness streaks Will’s cheeks, and the burn and throb around the rim of his ass is still thumping away as Hannibal moves, but the pleasure of being taken like this, of Hannibal drawing pleasure out of him after causing him so much harm drives him over the edge so fast that he doesn’t have time to prepare for his orgasm before he’s shooting his load across the sheets, coating Hannibal’s hand and his own stomach. His eyes roll back in his head from the intensity of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He moans, grinding back onto Hannibal’s cock, trying to keep the pressure on his prostate as he continues to come in jolts, the last of his seed dribbling out of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannibal doesn’t even stop, for once focused on chasing his own pleasure. Will lets out little staccato moans as he slams into him repeatedly, in quick thrusts. The overstimulation is so much, and his eyes well up again, arms fighting frantically with the tape around his wrists. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannibal’s nails dig into his ribcage and he tenses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I knew you’d want it no matter how much agony I put you through,” Hannibal says with a grunt, teething along his sweaty spine. “I knew you’d be begging for it, even if I shut you up.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will groans, trying to make it sound like a sarcastic noise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His bravado vanishes when Hannibal reaches around to his mouth, unrelenting in the pace of his thrusts, and rips the tape off of Will’s mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hannibal,” Will croaks, and his voice is so utterly wrecked that he’s not sure he can speak again for the rest of the week. The name feels so good on his tongue after so many days, that he forces himself to. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh-!</span>
  </em>
  <span> Hannibal, I can’t, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I can’t.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannibal grabs his hair, tangling his fingers in it and tugging for support as he uses his other hand to drag Will’s hips back over onto his cock over and over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will’s head is empty. His mouth is sticky, his lips chapped, and there is nothing but the sounds and sensations ricocheting throughout his entire body, over and over. He’s being used like a ragdoll and he’s loving every fucking second of it, like Hannibal knew he would. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After another few seconds, Hannibal is rocking off rhythm, and coming deep inside of him. Being filled with wet warmth is a gentle respite from the dull ache that still comes from the movement of Hannibal’s erection inside of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a pleasant sigh he can feel Hannibal thrust inside him one last time, and semen pushes out of his hole. There is so much, he feels like he’s overflowing, and grins because he must not have been able to jerk off too, all these weeks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His breath catches when Hannibal pulls out of him and his knees slump down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He catches the glint of the blade in the corner of his eyes, and he moves to twist away, but Hannibal places a soothing hand on his back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do not fret, my love. It is over.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He cuts the tape and relief immediately floods Will’s limbs as he stretches them above his head, and hears them crack and pop. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turns to Hannibal and smacks roughly on the cheek, enough so that Hannibal’s eyes go wide briefly, and he stumbles inelegantly off the knee he’d been propped up on. He doesn’t wait for any type of response before he’s dragging Hannibal in for a kiss, pouring all of his love into it. He’d missed him, that much is inarguably true. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t mean he doesn’t still want to make him pay for leaving for such a long time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Was everything alright?” Hannibal whispers against his lips, he runs his fingers delicately over Will’s hellishly sore rim and he hisses, trying his best to nod through his neck ache. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The pain is worth it. Your absence, not so much.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannibal lays Will down gently on his back and starts to rub massaging circles into his sore muscles, and Will groans from the immediate alleviation. Hannibal usually does this three or four times a week, and it’s been a long while. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was inspired by the time you told me to wait to make love to you until I couldn’t stand to not be inside you. I wanted to stay away as long as I could bear it. See how long that might take me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Took your damn time,” Will mumbles, feeling sleepy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I lasted three days,” Hannibal admits  and Will turns to face him, sluggish but stunned. “I knew that wouldn’t be a sufficient waiting period, so I forced myself to wait for a few weeks.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your stamina is better than mine. I might have broken a few things,” Will replies, abashed. He raises up his leg a little so Hannibal can work his hands around his thighs. The sore feeling resonates stronger closer to his ass, every bit of pain in his body seems to be revolving around that point, but Hannibal’s hands are making it better. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I waited three years for you once. Without even the memories of your body, uninhibited, to keep me company.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannibal looks up from where he’s digging into the muscle of Will’s right calf and Will meets his gaze warmly, if not a bit smug. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Still not apologizing for that one.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannibal smirks. “I’ll never expect you to.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is a comfortable silence before Hannibal’s hands go from massaging to stroking the soft expanse of Will’s skin, rememorizing the planes of flesh he’d missed for weeks. Will lets him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I had reservations on taking you without lubricant, however I believe I’ve managed to get away with it without any tearing on your part. I tried to make sure of that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I enjoyed it,” Will assures. “It was more natural, though I don’t suggest we do this again for a very, </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span>, long time.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, let’s not make this a regular practice. I’ve missed your begging far too much,” Hannibal strokes his cheek and Will cannot fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>believe </span>
  </em>
  <span>he’s getting aroused again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, well, I might make you beg once in a while. I’m still kinda pissed.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannibal hums, delight painted on every feature as he leans down to kiss the sweaty crook of his neck. He inhales deep and Will can feel his teeth spread in a grin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do my words excite you, darling?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will huffs, turning his head away. His dick still stirs at the sheer fact Hannibal can smell his arousal. That’s always got to him, for some damn reason. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was thinking the next time we do this, we might change things up. I could use a safe paralytic before I have my way with you. This time I might be a deranged stranger in the night who wants to treat you kindly and bring you to release multiple times while there’s nothing you can do about it,” Hannibal mutters as he drags his lips down to a nipple, teething at the bud. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will’s breath catches and the surge of arousal is so strong that he cups his cock protectively. “Hannibal, please,” he pleads, knowing full well where this is going.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannibal grins and grabs his wrists, pulling them away from his groin so he can go down on him, gladly sucking him into his mouth and drawing him to another bone-wracking release. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>They are spread out together in the bath, with Will pressed up against Hannibal’s back, his thighs encasing Hannibal’s hips. Hannibal had just washed him and now it’s his turn. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will scrubs the soapy washcloth along his spine, mesmerized by the suds falling like dewdrops along his smooth skin. Will kisses the nape of his neck and shimmies closer so he can wrap an arm around him and wash his chest, his stomach. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is a scratching at the bathroom door, and then a whine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The dogs missed you,” Will says, low. He doesn’t know how Hannibal feels about that. He’s never had a pet that missed his absence, but judging from what Will can see of his face, he seems abnormally pleased. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aphrodite misses the treats I cook her and Medeina misses the head scratches. I’m quite sure they don’t miss me specifically,” he responds without bite. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Medeina curled up with one of the sweaters you left on your armchair. I walked into the living room one morning, and she had her nose tucked under it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For one moment, Hannibal tenses, and then he relaxes again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He says nothing, but Will knows he must be endeared. He scrubs down to wash his cock. Hannibal did this for him briefly, knowing Will would be sensitive after their endeavours today, but Will purposefully spends more time rubbing the washcloth over the shaft of his dick, watching it twitch in the water. He smiles when he feels Hannibal shift. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am not as young as you are, Will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not young,” Will corrects. “And, your dick would beg to differ.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can’t remember the last time Hannibal got it up twice in under an hour, but the result is more than satisfying. Hannibal arches back against him, allowing him to do what he pleases, and he moans plenty. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannibal is something else when he’s oversensitive, the moans he lets out are almost pained, and it fascinates Will no end to watch him squeeze his eyes shut and grip tight onto Will’s arm as he picks up the pace with his hand. He kisses the tip of his ear when he comes, and eases off with the washcloth, draping it over the side and circling his arms around Hannibal’s middle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It seems you missed me more than I gave you credit for,” Will whispers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannibal chuckles. “Missing you is my malady.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Even when you’re with me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Especially then.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will hums, holding him tighter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then don’t leave me again.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hope that was sexy, it took me almost just a day to write it, i was that on a roll with this one. i think i mean it when i say i'm done writing for now for them, but i could keep going, it's my brain who decides not me. take care everyone! xoxo</p></blockquote></div></div>
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